Shredded Resemblances
by PikaCheeka
Summary: Seven years after Hogwarts, a young man has to return and face the disruption and calamity he created, if only his memory would allow...*sort of monologue* I'm back! ^_~ And you thought you were safe...


A/N: I am finally writing again! YAY! Shockingly enough, this is not one of my Malfoy fics, though those shall start coming up again soon. This is half a sequel to 'Anger is Livid, Hatred is Deep', but, perhaps even better, a stand-alone.

Rating: PG for insanity and disturbances.

Summary: Seven years after Hogwarts, a young man is forced to return to the depths of his mind and the horror that once happened at the school. The horror that he caused, and shall never be able to undo.

Genre: ANGST! * muahahahahaha * It's not Malfoy angst, but it is still angst.

WARNING: If you have something against characters going evil, I suggest you do not read this. This is a very twisted one, yet one that I firmly believe shall happen.

Shredded Resemblances

By PikaCheeka

"Am I correct in saying you are from Azkaban?"

"Azkaban? Yes."

"And that you have been sent here on the plea that you were in this condition before you entered there?"

"I've always been like this." 

"So you agree with those who claim you were insane before you did what you did?"

"Yes. Though I don't regret it. Not yet anyway."

"You may go."

The boy left obediently, his ragged robes snagging on the door. He was oblivious though, and they only tore further. 

"He's the youngest Weasley boy, isn't he?" a young man beside the interrogator said. "I believe I went to school with him. He was a Gryffindor, right?"

"Yes, Boot." His elder sighed. "It's a pity what he did, really. But they evidently covered it up well, if you do not know."

Terry Boot shook his head, not bothering to remind the Minister of Magic that half the wizarding world had forced themselves to forget what happened, and nothing the Ministry did could have covered anything up.

Ron marched down the hallways of the building, wondering which door was the one he was supposed to enter. He glanced at the paper again. Yes, room 28, but not in any of the wards. Looking up and seeing the number before him, he knocked.

A young woman, perhaps his age or a few years older, opened the door. She looked strangely familiar, but how, he could not place.

"Doctor?" He said. The word sounded strange. 

"Patient number 238....Ronald Weasley? You know why you're here, correct?"

"Yes. I am insane." He said simply.

She shrugged, looking at him quizzically, as if she also recognized him. But she obviously knew who he was. "Come on in, then." She sighed after a moment, opening the door wide.

He stepped into a small office. A wide window covered nearly half the far wall, hidden by a desk covered in books. More books lined the walls, as they did in many doctor's offices. He sat down promptly in the chair opposite the desk, for that was where she was sitting.

"Are you an Auror?" He asked suddenly, noticing several instruments that could detect Dark Magic. 

"That's why I'm YOUR psychiatrist, not someone else's." 

"Oh..."

"I suppose we start by letting you vent. Go ahead. Feel free to scream and swear as much as you like. I trust they have your wand?"

"Yes." He said bitterly.

"Well then. Go on."

"About anything?"

"Anything."

"Everything?"

"If time allows."

He laughed derisively for a moment, realizing what he was here for, finally, it seemed. She seemed to ignore him, however, and began straightening a pile of papers. He caught the words 'Renounced Death Eaters' on a folder before she shoved it into her desk.

"It begins with my family. My parents were poor to begin with, but went on and had seven kids. Bill and Charlie, Percy, Fred and George, Me, Ginny." The way he said 'Me' clearly stated how he felt about himself. "Bill was a genius. Head Boy and Prefect at Hogwarts. Charlie, close to follow, was one of the best players Gryffindor had ever had on their team. Percy perhaps had a harder act to follow. But he made up for it. He was much like Bill, but he joined the Ministry instead of the bank. And, of course, everyone loves an educated boy who joins politics. Fred and George were twins. Their grades were all right, nothing wonderful, but they themselves were perfect. They caused trouble, got detention once a week, but made everyone they met laugh, except perhaps Snape. They were geniuses, in their own way. Ginny, the youngest, was the only girl in the family, not to mention the baby. My parents adored her and pampered her. I can't even count how many times my mum said that because she was the only girl, she got special privileges for putting up with us. I was the youngest son. I was not a genius. I was not a good Quidditch player. I was not a politician. I was not a prankster. And I was not the _only_ anything. My grades were all right, I could fly well, I knew some about the Ministry, and I could make my friends laugh. But it didn't matter.

"Even if I HAD done something, someone else would have done it first. There are only so many things you can be known for in school. All I ever did was help my friend defeat the Dark Lord a few times. But hell, that was nothing. Why, you ask?" He shifted angrily, his eyes suddenly maniacal. "Why? Because my two best friends were even better than I was! There was Hermione, the smartest student ever to walk into Hogwarts in a century. There was nothing she couldn't do, and she was a great friend besides. She never had quarrels with her friends, and, when she did, they were so minor and good-hearted it was nothing. She was willing to throw her life down for people, even ones she disliked.

"My other best friend was Harry Potter." He paused, wondering whether the doctor was going to write this down or say anything, but she did not. He noticed her notebook was entirely blank. _Perhaps someone already said everything I said. Perhaps someone even beat me to THIS... _He though bitterly before continuing.

"Harry Potter was famous when he was only fifteen months old. You know his story, so I won't go into it. Everyone knew his story. He was famous for everything he ever did. Perhaps Malfoy was right when he said that he couldn't even walk into a bookstore without causing a commotion. I was his best friend, his very best friend, and he never even realized... never noticed how badly he was putting me into his shadow. And maybe he did notice, but he did nothing about it. He outshone me everywhere.

"And then there was school itself. There was Malfoy, whom I hated. He was bright, very intelligent, though his grades did not show it. He was rich, disgustingly so. His father was famous and had a very high position. On BOTH sides. Dark and light. He had everything he wanted, and most everyone in the school knew his name. The boy who tried to curse Potter, the boy whose father sacked Dumbledore, it went on. 

"I remember wanting to kill him. I remember wanting to kill everyone, at times. Everyone out there had more than me. Harry sometimes mentioned how he had NO family, but I'd rather have none. Then, I could do something great and be known for it.

"Life passed. Seven years of school flew by. I was never a prefect, Head Boy, a Quidditch player. I was only 'Harry's best friend', though few even knew me by name. 

"As the years in school went on, I realized I liked Hermione. And she felt the same. Not that it mattered. She was too...too _good _for me or something. 

"Harry, meanwhile, was gathering fame by the day. The Dark Lord had come back, and people eagerly awaited the day when Harry would purge the world of that faceless evil called Voldemort. Malfoy gained as well, for his father was Voldemort's second-hand man. Even Hermione gained, for everyone knew she was a muggle-born, and wondered what she would do, being so clever."

He had turned away from the doctor, and a glazed look had come over his eyes, as if he was no longer himself. Or as if he was delving so deep within himself he had ruptured something and years of ugliness had come pouring forth.

"But Hermione fell for Malfoy, though no one ever knew it. His father died protecting him from Voldemort, and people wondered what side he would end up on. For a few days he out-shadowed Harry, but it didn't last. Not that he cared. He didn't have a family like I did.

"It was in my seventh year when I couldn't take it anymore. Dumbledore was dead, McGonagall in charge of the school. Snape was becoming darker by the day, knowing any second he could be struck dead, and he seemed to take it out on the students he was working so hard to protect. I was shoved aside, ignored more than I ever had been. All my siblings were gone except Ginny, though she was thriving, if not diminished. She knew Voldemort, almost personally, because of an incident when she was eleven, and she somehow had great power because of this. People always talked to her, hoping to learn some of his secrets. She never spoke. Not because she cared, but because he had also taken those memories from her. I think.

"I turned then. The darkness inside of me was out of control. I hated it, all of it. I hated being alone all the time, being ignored. I needed people to notice me, and I was getting nothing. I was always like that, it just hit a point that year. So I turned to Voldemort. His followers were all famous and hunted. A band of narrow-minded ingenious murderers who ran rampart all over the world. 

"He was surprised, but not for long. He knew I was Harry's best friend, and he knew exactly how useful I could be. So I became a Death Eater. I was different then, more powerful. I was suddenly everywhere, everyone knew my name. 

"Because I had betrayed the great Harry Potter. He was my best friend, or was he? But he was ruined now, devastated. He was hurt deeply that his best friend had turned from him. But I had power. I told Voldemort everything I knew, everything that would help him. 

"But the end of the year was coming, as was Harry's death. I was crazy, my loyalties split. There was Harry, my childhood loyalty. And there was Voldemort, the one behind my new, deranged self. I preferred the latter, but the nightmares and the memories grew unbearable.

"In the end... Everyone knows what happened in the end. They both died, both fell. Because I couldn't decide. I switched sides and joined my old friend, but too late. Voldemort knew too much, so I had no choice but to watch both of them die. And then....

"Then I was alone again."

He said it was a hint of recognition, of horror of what he had done. "I was alone. But everyone knew my name."

He turned suddenly to the doctor. To his surprise, tears were welling in her eyes. Her notebook lay forgotten on the table, not a single word on it, not even his name or his number. 

"I should have died." He continued slowly. "But I did not. Somehow, I did not. Yet I was crazy by then, far too crazy to live normal again. I watched as Hermione, the only person I thought I cared about, turned to Malfoy for support. I watched as my sister sank into depression and met up with Neville again. Both of them had lost so much due to the same man. They're getting married next month.

"I do not know what came of Hermione. She and Draco both became Aurors, and the rumors around him are too complex for me to dis-entangle. Some say he died, some say he moved away, some say he married. I do not know. I can't even remember him."

Ron was slipping away, as if that hole inside of him was beginning to close, trapping all the secrets again, but he shuddered and went on.

"All I remember is that he killed my brother Percy in a wave of fury a few years after school, and I myself tried to kill him before I realized that it had been unintentional. I do not know why, I always hated Percy anyway. 

"But of all the faces of my memory. All the faces that I have lost...." 

He was returning to 'normal' again, as normal as he could be, and was beginning to babble. It seemed that he didn't even know what he had just said. 

"I remember Harry." He said finally. "My best friend, and I deserted him for fame. He is dead now, and all I shall ever remember of him was his face...his face when I told him...what I did. What I did all by myself."

He fell into silence and the room was seemingly dead. 

"I do not remember." Ron said after a few minutes. "I do not know anything that happened. I have just destroyed it. I have always wanted to do that because...

"Who are you?" he blurted out sharply. 

She pointed a trembling hand to a plaque on her desk. "Dr. H. Malfoy.", it read. "I'm...Hermione..." she said quietly.

Ron jumped up, his mind racing. Hermione? Hermione....why was that so familiar? 

And he bolted from the room, his mind working furiously. But it did not matter. All he had said was gone. All he once knew was gone. His entire life was gone as he once remembered. By saying it, by letting it all out, he had lost it. For that was its first intention. 

Hermione, like the rest, was gone forever.

It was just a name, just a shredded resemblance, to the girl he once knew.

A/N- Back to Malfoys, eh? ^_~


End file.
